


We Can Find The Love Again

by ryujinjja



Category: ITZY (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryujinjja/pseuds/ryujinjja
Summary: A bruised confidence hidden behind the warmest of smiles. A free spirit trapped within the confines of society. This story captures two girls’ vastly different journeys as they brave through the trials of self-discovery and realize their lives are more intertwined than they imagined.
Relationships: Choi Jisu | Lia/Shin Ryujin
Kudos: 13





	1. Lia: she hangs upon the flame-cased sun

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgements: Title was taken from ITZY’s “Be In Love”. Overall inspiration for the story was taken from ITZY’s “Letters to MIDZY”. Chapter titles were taken from various poems, each acknowledgement is in the chapter notes.
> 
> Chapters hopefully out regularly! This is my first work so feedback would be greatly appreciated :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title was taken from 'I am like a slip of comet' by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Gliding her way under the virgin autumn breeze, her eyes squint at the morning light peering through the redwoods. She smiles. The crackling of fallen leaves beneath the yellow boots and the drowned out sounds of birds waking in the distance suit her. After all, green is her colour. She’s completely entranced by her surroundings, and yet, perfectly aware of it. For a moment, she subconsciously gets lost, but instantly catches herself. Her desire to submerge completely in her thoughts clashes with the duty to uphold her assigned persona. Her nose crinkles and she once again transforms back. 

The other three catch up to her, arms wrapped around one another as their laughs echo towards the end of the tree lane. Trailing behind, I pull out my phone to capture the four, chuckling under my breath as the older trips over the younger’s leg. 

“Come over here.” Now aware that I was behind them, they stop, inviting me to join the line. I, too, stop teasingly, egging on the member’s aegyo for me to join them. She’s unbothered, however, maybe even slightly annoyed by this act. Everyone else makes large funny reactions while she clicks her tongue, turns and continues walking. The air suddenly changes as all of them follow suit, leaving me to catch up to them. She does this sometimes, leaving me to wonder if i’ve upset her in any way today. 

Not today, I haven’t.

I know that for a fact because I’ve become all the more sensitive to the details, a little more cautious of what I do. Something small like a word or a change in tone on the wrong day can rub off wrongly, even on the happiest person. Even on the girl who claims she’s not bothered by anything. In recent days, I’ve learnt where everyone’s limits were. Just like how in recent days, she’s become ever so changeable. We’re all, perhaps, perfectly aware of this and yet collectively opposed to addressing it. I smile, masking the innate fear I have within me that someone will break the silence. 

The cameras surrounding us and our microphone packs provide no room for error. Little moments of tension, awkwardness, aggravation are magnified when you have a whole crew watching you. Today’s shoot was bad, you could sense it. Fidgeting, shifty eyes, stuttering - all these negative indications we’ve worked on avoiding in our immediate-debut days. Our teamwork is but a delicate chain, and we’ve put in the effort to strengthen it at all costs. Still, even bad days like this reveal our deepest flaws. Sometimes I fear our fans watching could see right through whatever act I’m putting on. 

After filming, we headed straight back to the dorm. Nothing was said in the van; there was no mention of the snarky joke said over lunch nor was there a recollection of our youngest’s effort in the challenges. Just five girls sitting in the van together, separately. Perhaps the manager up front made it difficult for anyone to say anything. Or perhaps everyone was just tired. 

Upon closing the door behind us, our leader headed straight for the shower. Nights like these it would be an unspoken rule for us to meet in the living room after we all washed up so we could tie up loose ends and prevent problems from carrying onto the next day. Nights like these have been happening ever so often the last two weeks, all of which avoided the same primary issue. We all waited in the living room, completely wary of what it meant when our leader decided to wash up first rather than last. 

* * *

I felt the sting in my gut as soon as I woke up. Just the night before, I stumbled upon the news that she was planning on confessing her feelings tonight, after our last performance. Suddenly there was this pulsing pain in my whole body, like the kind you feel when you’re terrified. It was strange because if this all happened even just yesterday, I’d be delighted, I’d be over the moon, I’d be screaming to everyone. But knowing that she’s going to confess and… 

There’s just a lot on my mind. 

Admittedly, I did put myself in this situation, and I’m doing nothing good to get myself out of it. This morning, upon deciding that I would rather focus on myself first before pursuing a relationship, my first course of action was not to distance myself from her, but instead, stroke her hair while she talks about eating her mother’s buckwheat noodles when she gets back home. The one thing I needed not to do, the one thing I needed to avoid in order not to make me more uncomfortable, was talking to her, and that’s the first thing I did this morning. It’s hard.

Back in Paris, she thanked me for our relationship, hinting that it was only going to get better. Following that was a series of playful and flirty exchanges, brief moments of hand-holding, hair-touching, skin-caressing, teases. I guess some part of me was scared that it would all amount to something I couldn’t handle, that I would react without enthusiasm or not have the desired “butterflies in my stomach” feeling. In fact, I was scared that this very moment would come. I was scared that I’ll lead her on with real emotions only to be scared to commit to those same emotions. I was scared I was only in love with the idea of being in love with her. I was scared I wasn’t enough.

So today this fear becomes a reality. Of all the days she could have chosen, it’s the day we finish our Wannabe promotions. Not only is it a day of celebration and of welcoming a new chapter in our lives, but it is also our final performance. This choreography especially has been the most challenging one we’ve done, and with the added pressure of this being our final stage, I have never experienced more pre-concert jitters. It’s a different kind of negative feeling, not really a stage fright, it’s more just a lingering concern with how the stage would look like today. I feel my heart crawl further up my throat just thinking about- 

“Unnie. YA.” She clicks her tongue and boops me on the nose. I swallow it down. “You okay?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Just.” She takes my hand that’s tangled in her hair and starts playing with it. “You know I’m here, right?”

I nod.

“Always.”

* * *

The door to the bathroom clicked, breaking the silence. Nobody bothered reaching out for their phones to pass the time. Nobody dared to look at anyone. The mood was already predetermined, everything else was already prepared for today’s discussion. She dragged herself to the middle of the living room, tired eyes demanding everyone’s attention. It doesn’t normally look as terrifying in real life, but today was different. Her floating gaze stops at me.

“I seriously don’t know what to do anymore.” 

The frustration in her voice is heartbreaking to hear. However, I’m sure she knows how difficult this conversation is to have. To even begin is like taking a brick off a fragile wall. We’ve come so far simply ignoring the elephant in the room, but even I know when it’s time to address the issue.

“I need to say something.” I got up and replaced her, taking my overdue and rightful place in front of everyone. It would’ve been nice, however, if my intended audience acknowledged this. Instead her attention has been fixated to the loose threads of her ripped jeans. 

“I’d like to apologize for today. Actually, not only today, but the past few weeks. I know it’s been a little awkward and I guess I’m to blame for that. No, sorry, I know I’m to blame for everything.” I glanced at her, trying and hoping to discern some sort of satisfaction or disappointment - none of which her blank expression so much as hinted at.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to drag all of you or anyone else into this issue, but I didn’t know better. There were a lot of loose ends I didn’t tie up. And, as usual, I don’t brood over problems enough. I shouldn’t have brushed it off so easily…” I feel my lungs getting heavier and my head lighter. “I could have handled it in a much better way, but I didn’t. And I apologize for that.” 

“I know whatever I did has put all of you in an uncomfortable position and I truly didn’t mean anything by it. I just-” My vision starts to get bleary so I look to the ceiling for momentary comfort. It felt pathetic knowing that I’m the sole reason behind all of this and it felt even more pathetic that I feel bad for apologising. I turn back to everyone, now a little concerned. “-I wasn’t sure of myself and … the feelings I had.”

Her eyebrows twitched a little, but she still refused to meet my eyes. It felt bleak, coming up here and apologising like this when she wouldn’t even look at me. It didn’t feel enough. My jaws tighten and I find myself smiling for some reason, my wrists naturally gravitating to its place on my cheeks. The eyeliner smears them. I must look so hideous right now. There is silence and all I can hear is my sniffling. I must sound so pathetic right now. I hate how I cry: laughing and crying at the same time like someone who’s not bothered by the fact that she’s disappointed all her best friends. 

Everyone looks at me like I’m a helpless little girl. I feel light-headed. I find myself dropping to my knees.

“I’m s-”

“Choi Jisu-ya.”


	2. Ryujin: shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title was taken from 'The Party' by Jason Shinder.

I woke up remembering the view in Paris. The nostalgia brushes upon me like a warm blanket. I’m not supposed to be awake for another 30 minutes. My phone rings with a text from my mum. Flustered, I quickly turn the ringer off before I wake up Yeji, still lightly snoring. Mental note: tease her about it later.

_‘Ryujin-ah, you’re coming home next week right?’_

_‘Bring your friends over, I’ll cook something delicious for them.’_

_‘Have a good performance later~ We’ll be watching…’_

I reply with a _‘keep your eyes on the prettiest one’_ and close the notification. 

The picture of us in front of the Eiffel Tower is briefly revealed and I lock my phone. You can’t see from this picture, but we all look so happy. Even if we faced the camera, it wouldn’t be able to capture how happy we were in France. Sometimes I regret not spending more time just simply being, and just simply enjoying. It’s a pity we had to rush the itinerary. There wasn’t enough time to just sit and enjoy the little moments. I couldn’t blame the staff, of course, they tried everything they could to help us enjoy the trip the way we wanted it to be enjoyed in the midst of our busy schedules. They even let us have a free-and-easy at the Seine.

The view was beautiful at the Seine River: the freshwater, the buildings, the Parisians having their breakfast. Occasionally we’d wave to the strangers on the boats that cruised past. Chaeryeong could not stop talking about how much she wanted to live there. We spent the entire afternoon sitting at the edge of the basin, admiring Paris and all it had to offer. It was more beautiful that way - when you take a step back and pause to retreat and appreciate the world in its raw and bare form, the way it was intended to be looked at. 

She was more beautiful that way.

The wind that caressed her hair, her eyes squinted against the bright light that could never compare to the one she radiates. The crescents that carve her face whenever I say anything remotely funny. The smile I would give anything to be a part of. Her voice. 

My god, her voice.

Even while eating breakfast, she’d sing along to the song she’s playing. Two years have gone past and I’m still not tired of listening to her sing. The enchantment that resonates, that draws you in. The timber in that deep voice of hers that is so alluring I want to feel it through my lips. 

I remember she played Woman by Honne. I whined a little because I was embarrassed at the time. She knew what that song meant to me. It was her favourite song too. I guess that makes it our song. And playing it again in a different setting, listening to it with her and the ever-so-preoccupied Chaeryeong just made the song even more emotional. Just sitting there in the city of love without a care in the world about time, about anything, next to the people I love, made me feel like everything is going to be okay.

‘This is the perfect moment.’ 

It’s cheesy now that I’m remembering it, but it made sense to me to say it at the time.

And hopefully, it’s going to make sense saying it later tonight. 

It’s a bold, rash and unexpected conclusion I came to last night after having dinner with Yeji. But something inside me said that our last performance would be the perfect moment. Our relationship has been steadily growing since Paris, and I think the members are starting to get sick and tired of our flirting. I figured today would be the perfect day: we’re performing one of our biggest songs for the last time, so it’s already a special day for us and what else would be the perfect cherry on top if not telling your best friend you love them. 

“Good morning.” I lie down with my head on groggy Lia’s lap. My hair’s a lot shorter now, but I still love it when she runs her fingers through my blue strands. Yuna gets out of the room, sees us and smiles, as she takes a seat with my feet resting on her lap. Everyone’s waiting for Yeji to get out of the shower so I start talking about my plans for next week. The members haven’t met my parents yet, but we’ve all met Lia’s.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” I ask Lia, whose fingers have stopped brushing my hair. “Unnie.” She still doesn’t hear me. “YA.”

She snaps out of her daze and smiles lazily, nodding. Everyone has performance jitters and we all deal with it differently. Even now as idols it’s hard to say you don’t get nervous before a performance. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

“Choi Lia!” I scream into the toilet. “Are you having a stomach ache? Why are you taking so long?” Yeji, Chaeryeong and Yuna had already made their way to the van, Yeji deciding that I should probably talk to Lia one-on-one. “Unnie?”

She walks out the toilet, surprised that I was the owner of the screams that made everyone’s heads turn in the hallway. “You’re so embarrassing… Let’s go!” I quickly grab her hand to stop her. “Why? What’s up?”

“The ceiling?” I love those little eye rolls. “Nothing, I was just… I wanted to say thank you.” I feel my face burning, now suddenly attuned to everything around me - my pulsating heart that has slowly made its way to my fingertips, to hers. 

“What’s this… You’re scaring me…” I laugh because she puts on that face she makes when she’s truly concerned. I take a deep breath. 

“You don’t have to be. I just want to say… I love you.” 

“Yes, Ryujin, I know.”

“No, like. _I love you._ ” My face is flushed behind this thick layer of foundation I purposely asked the makeup artist to put on today.

“Ryujin…”

“Listen, ever since Paris, all I’ve been thinking about is how great of a couple we’d make. The members are all supportive of-”

“Ryujin…” 

“Yes, Lia, I love y-”

“Ryujin. I can’t do this.” I’m confused. Her eyes start tearing up and soon, so does mine. I usually cry when she does, but it felt wrong today. Perhaps my body knew why I was crying and just refused to tell me. And now I’m standing here like a fool crying for no reason, not for her, not for me, just crying. And I don’t know why.

“What?”

“I feel so bad, you have to try and understand that.” What is there to understand? How else was this supposed to go? Why am I even here? How did we even end up in this hallway alone? Why am I crying? “I didn’t mean to lead you on with false hopes or anything. Ryujin, I really do love you.” I know that. I know that more than you do. “I just… I’m just going through a lot right now and… I really don’t think a relationship would help, and just… I’m so… so sorry.”

“I don’t understand…” But I do. At least, some part of me does. The rest of me is still stuck in disbelief. Is this really happening? I didn’t know where I went wrong, where it felt wrong, whether anything was even wrong. Is it her? Is it me?

“Ryujin… I just really don’t want this right now. I love you, believe me, I do.” 

“Do you?” The words just instinctively came out. Even she looked taken aback.

“Ryujin… I still really lo-”

“We should get to the van, they’re waiting.” 

* * *

And there she was. Standing in front of us, explaining and apologising to everyone. The petty side of me should be delighted to see her crying like that. The petty side of me should be completely satisfied with this situation. But I wasn’t. And no matter how much anger and frustration I had reserved in me that I have been dying to lay upon her, I just couldn’t stand seeing her like this. Lia has always been extroverted and open about her feelings. She deals with problems within the day and she never broods on them or holds grudges. And so I hate that I’m the grudge she’s had to hold for the longest time. The past three or so months since the incident, she’s done her absolute best to be cautious around me and respect my personal space. And I do appreciate that. But while I’ve moved past that incident, somehow she hasn’t. She could interpret everything I do in such a negative and hostile way, and sometimes, I want to just tell her that I’m not mad anymore. But I never did. And to see her standing there asking for everyone’s forgiveness like we’re all on the high ground? Like I’m not in the wrong? Watching her struggle to even get a word out, to even breathe through the sobs… We don’t need this apology. I don’t need this apology. She doesn’t need to apologize.

“Choi Jisu-ya.” Everyone on the couch turns to me. “Stop that.” She doesn’t listen and gets to her knees anyways.

“I have to.”

“Choi Jisu, I swear to-”

“Then look at me!” I stop fiddling with my jeans. Everyone’s piercing stares, including hers, target me. I’m completely aware of how I’ve been avoiding eye contact this whole time. The couch starts to lighten as everyone goes to their separate rooms. I clench my fists together, leaning my head on them, shaking my knees as I fight the urge to let go and cry.

“I can’t.” I close my eyes as hot tears start trickling down, my hands quickly wiping them before she sees.

“Why?” Her tone changes. She’s talking to me the way she talks to everyone whenever one of us starts crying for no reason. You can’t help but acknowledge that Lia has always been everyone’s shoulder to cry on, everyone’s listening ear. Even in these moments, she looks stupid being more concerned for how I’m feeling than I am for how she’s feeling. I hate that about her. 

“Because I don’t want to see you like that, Jisu-ya.” I felt her cold hands on mine, pulling my clenched fists apart to wrap myself around her waist. Suddenly, I find myself hugging her so tight I start crying into her shirt. “Don’t do that again. Please.” Refusing to let her see me like this, I squeeze tighter, resisting her efforts to pull away.

“Hey. Hey! Look at me.” I can’t. “I don’t care if you look like shit, just look at me.” She pushes me away and kneels in front of me, looking into my tear-stained eyes with her very own. Her thumbs softly caress my cheeks, wiping away the dripping mascara that further stains her hands, already black from wiping away her own stains. 

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“I want to.” A smile is muscled out by her shaking cheeks. “At least let me say my piece. I owe you that much.” I debate whether I deserve this apology, whether I’m asking too much of her, whether I should stop her. But I choose not to. Not because I want her to explain anything, or because I want to get this over and done with. But simply because, Lia never does this. She’d avoid an emotional confrontation from carrying onto the next day if she could, she’s good at getting over herself, at not beating herself up for her mistakes. And so, I let her, because I’ve never seen her more terrified, more remorseful, more determined than her eyes tell.

“Believe me. I was absolutely head-over-heels in love with you. Even that morning. The feelings that I felt for you, everything I’ve said to you, I don’t regret that. They were all real. Not once did I do or say anything to you that didn’t come from my heart.” She places my hand on her chest. “Not once did I lie about my feelings for you, Ryujin. But that day…” She starts to tear up again. “You have to understand that it was so difficult for me that day.” She starts to choke on her words again. “I couldn’t commit to a relationship then. I can’t commit to one now either. And I’m just really sorry it took me so long to realize how hard this was for me.” 

She smiles again, letting out a soft chuckle, wiping her own tears before I could.

“I can’t stand the thought of you hating me.”

“Choi Jisu-”

“I’m sorry.” She pulls me in for a hug. “You don’t have to say anything today.” She pulls away. “Just say ‘good morning’ to me tomorrow.”


End file.
